The Swallow that Danced amidst the Lightning
by Lord Marshal
Summary: The Hallows, artefacts that give their bearer control over Death. The Elder Blood, a gene that gives those that possess it power over Time and Space. Only one other eclipses them, the White Frost, an entity that hungers to consume all. And if it is ever to be truly defeated, the bearers of The Hallows and Elder Blood must unite. For it is not just the living the Frost desires...
1. Chapter One

**AN: **

**Man, The Witcher, what a world. I try not to gush about it like one of those awkward fanboys who literally won't shut up about it being the greatest thing since sliced bread, but it _is_ one of the best single player games I've ever played. And the books are equally great if in a far different manner. Honestly with it's popularity and quality I'm surprised by the lack of Witcher crossover fan fiction, Witcher/HP fan fiction to be specific. The two worlds just mesh together very nicely. Teleportation for instance is already present, so isn't as overpowered as it usually is in HP crossovers. And a certain white haired lady's powers to regularly break dimensional barriers and nearly go on right through the forth wall does make this a lot more believable than it usually is writing crossover stories. **

**So this is my humble contribution to Witcher FF. To get the usual out of the way, this is rated M so expect everything that goes with that including sexual content, though I've yet to decide if I'm going to post the more explicit stuff here. Also be sure to expect the usual graphic violence and language, though you really should expect that with a dark twisted world centred on a mutated man that hunts down horrifying monsters for a living. **

**Yes the pairing is Harry/Ciri, no that's not up for debate, yes some other girls might be brought in on a temporary basis for some shenanigans, no that isn't a harem. We're looking for a _modicum_ of realism here and if you believe harems work IRL then you're in for a rude surprise. **

**Other pairings are somewhat up in the air. Geralt and Yennefer is a definite of course, even if the relationship is almost hilariouslytoxic in the books, they've got too much chemistry and history not to end up together. Everyone else though, who knows? Might shove it in a poll for you all to decide on.**

**If you would like to ask a question or leave praise and criticism please either leave it in a review or send me a PM. I share every authors weakness for reviews and always try to be prompt with my replies. **

**Oh, and please do check out. _The Witcher: The __Emerald__ Dragon_ and _The Viper's Awakening_ if you are interested in more quality HP/Witcher fics. I haven't been asked to promote them in any way, they're just very well written and I would definitely recommend if your looking for a quality W/HP read. **

**And with that, let us begin.**

* * *

The world wind fluttered over her wings as she soared through the sky, her head arched and eyes closed as she soaked up the last rays of the setting sun, the light making her pure white feathers almost shine. Opening her hazel eyes she gazed far in the distance and finally spotted home, letting out a small hoot of relief and satisfaction. The skies were her natural world, her life, her Kingdom. But even a Queen eventually yearned for home after spending so long travelling her domain.

She began to gently dive and after a minute of flight passed through the barriers of her bondmate's magic, the boundary that marked the edge of their territory. She took in the modest home her Human had created for them and felt a small swell of pride. It was a fine nest. A road intersected by an elaborate gate and wall snaked around the lake she flew over, the gravel path leading up to a modestly large building of marble and glass which sat nestled amongst the almost mountainous green hills. A pleasant garden surrounded the large house, obviously well kept and tended, ivy gracefully crawled up marble walls and the flowers in their beds were coming into full bloom. It was rather pretty, idyllic almost, even to the eyes of an owl who cared little for such things.

She much preferred it to the nests they once called home. The stale house of brick inhabited by the perpetually sweating land whales had been unbearable and the towering house of the red hairs had been far too crowded. The giant edifice of stone that had contained the many Human chicks had been pleasant enough, there were lots of high places to perch on and the grounds were expansive, wild and flush with juicy prey, but it hadn't been _hers_. She had had to share her domain with lesser owls, and worse, her bondmate with lesser females.

Hedwig didn't share.

She passed over the house and made a beeline for the large hill behind it, specifically the cliff that towered over their home. Any other bird would have balked at this point, but Hedwig knew that it was all but an illusion designed to fool less gifted Humans and Owls. Not hesitating for a moment, she flew through the seemingly solid rock.

A well lit, cavernous room greeted her, the surrounding stone smoothed to an almost unnatural degree. Curved oak tables lined the edges of the room with the exception of the open space in front of the portal which she entered through, the large opening in the rock providing an incredible view of the surrounding area and setting sun.

She did a circuit of the room looking for her partner until she found him seated at his desk in front of the opening, his form in the large chair silhouetted against the setting sun. He had obviously been working on something, his desk full of books, letters and instruments, but the Wizard was now looking up to her with a smile, the happiness as clear on his face as it was through their bond.

She banked sharply and landed on the Human's outstretched arm, not worrying about harming him with her claws, knowing that his strange green scale coat would protect him. Creeping up his arm, she didn't stop until she was in her favourite perch, a shoulder where she could best snuggle in to his warm, neck length hair and comforting scent. She began her usual grooming of his messy locks, a life long labour she not so secretly enjoyed.

"It's good to see you again Hedwig, safe travels?" Harry Potter asked softly as she worked to restore order to chaos. A simple affirmative hoot was her only answer. Smiling, he took the letter that was tied to the owls leg and ripped open the envelope, reading the contents with an eager eye.

_Lord Potter,_

_First off may I say Penelope and I are touched by your regret over the destruction of the stone. However you are completely blameless in that unfortunate episode. Albus's actions were his own and you were just a young boy admirably trying to do what he felt was right. The only blame lies with those now long dead. Besides, we are both content with our lot. Immortality has its perks but is not quite the paradise that many make it out to be. We still have a few more years in the two of us left to enjoy. Do not worry yourself. _

_In regards to your question over the nature of the Hallows, I'm afraid I don't have the answer you seek. They were ancient even in my far gone youth. The legend of the three brothers is very much that, a legend. In the 14th century, a different childhood tale was told of the Hallows, that of a mad but all powerful wizard and his wish to conquer the last enemy he thought could possibly oppose him, Death, creating three tools to achieve his ambition. The moral of the story was the same as the modern fable, the futility of such a goal and he suffered the same fate as the two eldest Peverell brothers. The role of Ignotus was filled by his son who humbly offered the Hallows to death as an acknowledgement of his Father's sins._

_That is perhaps the only scrap of knowledge I can grant you. The stone satisfied my wish for a longer lifespan and I never looked far into legend of the Hallows. I might have been able to point you towards someone who knew more of them, however the only person I ever met who knew something of their secrets met their end at the foot of Hogwarts Astronomy tower six years ago. _

_Whilst it saddens me that I cannot help any further, I feel in the end it is for the best. Over the centuries I have seen many great and good wizards brought to madness and ruin in their search for the Hallows. Despite your assurances that you do not desire to own them, I implore you to to give up this search. Nothing but heartache and pain lies at the end of this path and I dare say that you have had quite enough of that._

_I wish you good health and fortune in the long years to come Lord Potter._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Nicolas Flamel _

Harry put the letter down with a disappointed sigh, leaning back in his chair.

"Too late for that Mr Flamel. Too late for that." Harry muttered, looking down on the three objects laid out before him.

The Hallows sat on the oak desk rather inconspicuously, giving away nothing to indicate their true nature and power. Even to a Wizards senses they would feel like nothing more than an ordinary wand, magical cloak and enchanted stone. Harry knew better however. He knew their terrible power that laid contained within them. Power that had been the bane of his life for the last six years.

Reaching forward Harry picked up the stone and studied it with tired eyes, the Hallow still set in a plain gold ring as it had been all those years ago, though now resized to his fit his own finger.

"Well looks like we only have one last option girl, gotta to have a chat with _him_."

The Owl flapped her wings and let out a short screech showing her displeasure.

"I know, I know, I don't like it either." Harry soothed, stroking the displeased bird, a somewhat awkward action when she refused to leave his shoulder. "But we don't have a choice any more. How about you go to your perch? I left some of my dinner there for you, didn't feel that hungry honestly."

The Owl looked indecisive, fluttering her wings, obviously famished from her long flight but unwilling to leave him alone.

"Hmm, that's a pity, that _crispy_ bacon will have to go to waste then..." Harry said innocently, looking at his familiar out of the corner of his eye, a small smile appearing when he saw her freeze at the mention of her favourite food.

"Go on Hedwig" Harry said with a chuckle. "I'll be fine. Sooner it's done with the better."

Knowing when he had his mind made up, the Owl let out a small hoot and with one last head rub, flew from the room out the door on the opposite side of the chamber.

Harry rose from his chair with a sigh, resurrection stone still in hand, slowly walking to stand in front of the wide open portal, the warm air outside barred from him by the same magic that hid the opening from view. For a minute he simply gazed out onto the glorious landscape of the Lake District as the bodies of water that gave it its name were bathed in light of the setting sun, feeling forever grateful that he had put the depressing halls of Grimmauld Place behind him in return for this far more beautiful solitude. So calming was the sight that he almost didn't even notice as he turned the stone thrice in hand.

He didn't need to turn around to know the room was no longer empty. Harry had developed a...sixth sense for the presence of the dead after all.

"Harry my boy, whilst I must say it is good to see you again I had hoped it would be under different circumstances."

"Am I too guess that these...circumstances would have been my death Dumbledore?" Harry inquired, not turning to look at the shade who now stood behind him. He didn't know what he would do if he looked upon the old man's face again.

"A somewhat crude way of putting it but yes. The Hallows are terrible objects Harry, I had dearly hoped that would would reject their allure and rise above them."

"Rise above." Harry parroted. "Such an interesting choice of words when you spent much of my life making sure I did quite the opposite."

An almost oppressive silence settled on the room at the Potters words, both participants more than aware of what Harry was referring too.

"I won't ask how you found out, nor ask for your forgiveness Harry." Dumbledore sighed, any trace of light heartedness gone from his voice. "After what I've done I don't deserve it. All I will say is that even if I could take back my actions, I would not. Nothing I ever did was for personal gain or glory or ego. It was _always_ for the greater good."

Harry laughed. It was not his usual laugh, light and full of mirth, but dark and mocking as he listened to the man who was only eclipsed by Voldemort in the harm he had done to him.

"I suppose." Harry mused. "I could keep us here until sunrise screaming of the injustice of you subverting my parents will to leave me with my abusive relatives. I could howl to the moon about how you abandoned Sirius in Azkaban and left him there to rot despite knowing that he was innocent, all so that he wouldn't come to find me and take me away from that hell. I could shout to the heavens about how you used my parents money, _my_ inheritance to fund your little fan club."

Looking down Harry slipped the resurrection stone ring back onto his ring finger before gripping his hands together to stop them drawing his wand. He was fairly sure he could not harm a shade summoned by the power of the Hallows but that didn't mean he wasn't tempted to try regardless.

"I could rage and cry as I did that night that I discovered the truth of how the one person I trusted the most in this world, the man I viewed almost as the Grandfather I had never known, had been leading me by the nose my entire life, fattening me up for the slaughter in his own delusional vision of what he saw as the _greater good_."

Harry finally turned to look at the ghost of the wizard he had once revered. The old man wasn't in the light and elegant clothes Harry had seen in his post death vision, but his old blue and gold raiment he had worn in life as Headmaster of Hogwarts. So too was gone the serene and clam air he had once exuded, his face now only a grimace of grief and pain. Was that regret for his actions or pain at his unnatural trip back to the world of the living? Both? Did it even matter?

"But I'll do none of those things, because not of it matters anymore. You're dead, I'm not. I've scraped back every Galleon, Sickle and Knut you took from my vaults, every limit and chain you put on me is gone, every deception and falsehood you weaved around me is lifted. I am free."

The anguish on Dumbledore's face only increased, if such a thing was even possible.

"I never wanted to chain you Harry, I only wanted to...to..." The only man hesitated, obviously trying to find the right words before giving up with a sigh and a slump of ethereal shoulders.

"No, you're not interested in what I have to say and nothing I _could_ say would be enough I suppose. Surely you brought me here for more than to gloat? Such is not in your nature Harry."

"Your right." Harry nodded, glad himself at the change of subject. He wasn't sure if he could contain himself if they talked of the man's transgressions further. "I have questions, questions you will answer and then be on your way. I will count myself blessed if this is the last time I see your face before judgement day."

"Then please ask away Harry" Dumbledore accepted, spreading his arms. "Let there be no more secrets and lies between us. I promise, as much as you consider a promise from me to be worth, that I will tell you everything I am able to."

Harry looked into the shades eyes for a moment, searching for any sign of deceit that laid there. He had not been idle these past few years, rising high in the Aurors, battling dark wizards and corruption alike, the experience stripping his previous nativity and innocence from him. As such he liked to think that he had grown a knack for telling when someone was lying to him. For all his newfound talent however he could sense no hint of a deceit from the spirit, though that in itself meant nothing. Dumbledore had been- was- a master manipulator. Harry had no doubt he could swindle a cancer patient out of their medication if he put his mind to it. He would have to proceed carefully.

Walking to his desk he sat down and summoned the Hallows with a simple flick of a hand, the legendary artefacts soon floating at his command over his desk. Relaxing back into his chair he looked intently at his old Headmaster who's face had turned dour at the sight of the mythical trio.

"Tell me about them. Tell me everything you know about the Hallows."

"The only thing you should know of the Hallows is that you should have disposed of them the moment you were done with them."

"I thought you said there to be no more secrets old man?"

"I'm not hiding secrets Harry. When I tell you that only death and tragedy come from possessing them, those are the most honest words I have ever spoken to you. Dispose of them, destroy them, before it's too late."

Looking at his Headmaster for a moment in contemplation, as if giving serious thought to his warning, Harry waved a hand in acceptance.

"Alright."

The shade blinked as if he had expected Harry to argue. The Auror reached out and grasped the Eldar wand, snapping the Death stick in two. A whispered word later and the two splintered half went up in hungry flames, disintegrating to ashes in a matter of seconds. The shade let out a sigh of relief.

"You will see that I am right my b-" He was interrupted as Harry held up a hand for silence. The Potter tilted his head and closed his eyes as is listening for something elusive sound only he could hear. Suddenly his eyes shot open and zeroed onto one of the drawers of his desk. Opening said draw he reached inside and placed the contents on the table.

The Elder Wand, unburnt, unbroken, whole as the day it was made. Dumbledore could only look down upon Hallow with wide eyes.

"_This_ is why I need to know everything you have on the Hallows." Harry explained, his hostility to the dead wizard subsumed as an almost desperate tone overcoming his voice. "I can't get rid of them Dumbledore. The day I killed Voldemort I disposed of them, I snapped the Eldar wand and threw it into the chasm. I tossed the stone into the depths of the Forbidden Forest and I kept only the cloak for its family value. Yet the next morning I woke to find them them all lying on my bed as innocent as can be. Nothing I have tried since has been able to rid me of them."

"And nothing works? You have tried _everything_ Harry?" The Headmaster implored, face grim as Harry had ever seen it.

"_Everything_." Harry confirmed. "Basilisk Venom, Fiendfyre and every viable curse and spell I could find did nothing. I tried locking them in Gringotts and Egyptian tombs hoping that the potent wards would stop them from getting back to me and they still found their way back. For Merlin's sake, I even snuck into a muggle launch site to stick them to the side of a rocket that was taking a satellite to Saturn. And they still came back!"

The Headmaster looked lost for words at this information but was set for only more shock.

"Of course none of this would matter greatly in the long run." Harry explained, feeling relieved to finally be talking about this with someone, even if it that someone was Dumbledore. "Yes they would be a burden on me for the rest of my life and paint a target on my back if the news ever got out, but it wasn't like I wasn't used to that already. It was a burden I could bear. No, the Hallows do more than just come back after being thrown away and destroyed."

Harry leant back in his chair and steepled his fingers, casting his mind back to the events of the six years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the changes the Hallows had forced upon him.

"I can hear them Dumbledore. The voices of the dead. I can sense when those in proximity to me pass away, when ghosts and restless spirits are created and destroyed, and they can..they _know_ something is wrong with me. My last visit to Hogwarts sent the castle ghosts insane. If they weren't fleeing in terror they were congregating around me, moaning, crying and reaching out like I was...was the second coming or something. When they got a hold of themselves none of them could even explain why they had reacted like they had."

"I can even..." Here Harry paused and swallowed as the knowledge was still painful to him. "Sometimes I can even sense when people around me are about to perish, myself included. Not all the time but it comes in bouts. Saved my life, and others a few times when we've been on raids and patrols. Other times...other times its just a torment. There was this little girl I passed on the street, walking with her mother and infant brother. As I walked passed them I sensed her impending death but couldn't understand what was happening, the street was calm and quiet, there was no threat anywhere near us, not even a car driving past. Then this piece of steel pipe dropped from the sky like a spear and...and..."

"I understand Harry." Dumbledore said quietly.

"It was the dumbest fucking thing." Harry whispered, eyes glassy as he cast his mind back to that day and its gruesome event. "It was a part of a gear from the wheels of an aircraft that was taking off and didn't fold in properly. The chance of it hitting someone was astronomical but it hit _her_. If I had been faster, kept my senses open I might have..."

Harry shook his head, dismissing the thought that had tormented him since that day. He had spent long enough agonising over it.

"And if you can believe it that isn't even in thing that made me desperate enough to call on you. Its this."

With another flick of his hand a flower that was resting on one of the many tables around the edge of the chamber floated over to his outstretched palm. It was a rose, recently pruned from the bushes in his garden. Taking it into his hands he held it for a moment before, focusing intently, he pushed the now familiar cold power of the Hallows into his hand. A dark green glow overcame the fingers that held the rose, the flower wilting and atrophying within seconds, black smoke rising from it as it died. A moment later the now thoroughly dead plant disintegrated into nothing, dust falling between Harry's fingers to the desk below.

"This was a recent development. The first time it manifested it was involuntarily, I was feeding and stroking Hedwig. If I hadn't lifted my hand from her a moment before it came then she wouldn't be in the world of the living anymore." Harry explained grimly, waving his still glowing fingers. "I've learned to control it somewhat but it can still occasionally flare up with only a seconds warning."

He turned his eyes from his hand to Dumbledore as, with difficulty, he retracted the cold power of the Hallows. Putting that power back in its box was like wrestling with a steroid infused grizzly bear. It refused to be controlled.

"Do you see now why you need to tell me everything you know of the Hallows? First I hear the dead, they hear me, I sense death when it approaches and sometimes can't avert it, I send ghosts into terror or jubilation, sometimes both and they can't even explain why. Now I've got some sort of power that kills anything that lives and it nearly ended the life of someone precious to me."

Harry stood up and planted his hands on the desk, face deadly serious.

"What next Dumbledore? What happened when its something I can't control? What if I hurt, or god forbid kill, someone I care about? What are the Hallows trying to turn me into?"

Dumbledore floated in place before him, eyes closed as he contemplated what he had been told. Slowly he spoke, his tone quiet and slow as if he was unsure of what he was saying even as he said the words.

"When you called me from beyond I...I could sense there was something different about you but it was not something I could define as it was unlike anything I had never felt before. But I could could identify the emotions I felt as I travelled between worlds, foreign to me, yet at the same time natural as well. Subservience, obedience, submission, an obligation to answer the summons of the one who called me."

Dumbledore's head came up and his eyes opened, their dark blue depths indecipherable.

"It appears the Hallows have bonded to you Harry, you have become, for lack of a better title, the Master of Death."

Silence came to the room, the Potter looking up at his old Headmaster with incredulous eyes before a he began to chuckle and then laugh as if he had heard a particularly good joke. His mirth only ceased when he saw the shade hadn't dropped his serious expression.

"Your joking." Harry frowned disbelievingly. "Your joking right? The Hallows are clearly connected with death somehow but to make me the 'Master of Death'? That was a myth, a childhood fable created to teach morals to children! Such a power is impossible by every law of magic I know, nobody could possibly create such a thing."

"Impossible yes, even the miracles of magic can only accomplish so much." Dumbledore nodded. "But only by the rules of magic of our world. Perhaps not by the rules of others."

"Others...as in other worlds?" Harry said slowly.

"Other worlds, yes, though not quite in the way you are thinking. These are not planets of the cosmos but...alternate realities for lack of a better word. For it would only be in other worlds ruled by different rules of magic that the creation of such artefacts as the Hallows could be accomplished."

"Other realities..." Harry whispered, rubbing his face. This was getting deep. "And you know that such things exist? Do you have proof or is this just a theory?"

"In life I thought their existence no more than a hypothesis and I could give you nothing to verify their existence. However in death this hypothesis had been confirmed. After all, I have talked, discussed and debated with several inhabitants of these other planes of existence. Truly fascinating discussions at that. Its astounding to see the differences between our worlds."

Harry's mind boggled at the what he was being told, information that would rock the worlds foundations if it could be proven. With difficulty he forced down his desire to ask more questions. If he did so he would be occupied for the next week. He had summoned Dumbledore for a reason after all, one more pressing than an urge to satisfy his curiosity.

"That...that really is incredible, But what else can you tell me about the Hallows? They are the pressing matter." Harry asked, eager for more information like a starving man was for food, even if the information was beyond fantastical. He had once believed a giant crashing through his door telling him he was a Wizard, he could certainly believe this.

"I can tell you that every culture across the Earth has been visited by the Hallows and possesses stories or fables of their power, stretching as far back as the late dynasties of ancient Egypt, the Iron age Indian civilisations and the Shang Dynasty of old China. I can tell you that not a single example I could find showed that someone had more than two at any one time and those that did never held them longer than a year. I can tell you that every legend and fable follows the same theme, that the Hallows hold power of death and the futility of opposing such a force."

"But I cannot tell you what you wish to hear. Never before have the Hallows been brought together in one person's possession, never before have they bonded to anyone or given them the powers you now possess. Not even in my discussions with those from other realities had they ever heard of objects with their power. I could no more tell you how to control them than a first year student could teach you the intricacies of Legilimency. I'm sorry."

Harry slumped in his chair as the very real high of hope, a feeling he had not felt in years, drained from him.

"That's all you have? A theory that the Hallows didn't come from Earth and more dead ends? How does that help me? How am I supposed to get rid of the Hallows if..." Such a surge of helplessness and anger surged through Harry that he hadn't felt since the darkest days of Voldemort's reign. This had been his last chance to discover a way to be rid of the Deathly Hallows. No one on the planet knew more about the Hallows than Dumbledore. Taking a deep breath he ran through his occlumency exercises, calming himself. He was no longer an angst ridden teenager prone to melodramatic outbursts.

"Is there nothing else you can give me? Nothing at all that I can use?" Harry asked as he stared holes down into the oak desk, a measure of calm returning once more to him as he dispassionately thought over what he had learned.

"There may be one route you can take..." Dumbledore answered hesitantly.

"I thought you said you couldn't tell me how to control the Hallows?" Harry asked, not daring to hope.

"And I spoke the truth." Dumbledore nodded. "But that doesn't mean I can't point you in the direction of where you might learn more."

The Shade floated past Harry to hover before the portal, Harry standing to follow. The old Headmaster fixed his eyes on the horizon, the sun now little more than a sliver of light beyond the hills of the Lake District, gloom starting to descend upon the Valley with the retreat of the light.

"Many years ago and long after I had ceased my interest in the Hallows, news came to me from an old friend, an archaeologist by the name of Clarissa Vane. It was _she_ who hypothesized of the existence of other worlds and the possibility of the Hallows possessing an extra dimensional origin. In her letter she said she had gained possible proof of the existence of other realities and asked for my assistance at her dig site where said proof was supposedly located. My interest was peaked I must admit, such a discovery would be the find of the millennia. But my lust for mystery and glory had long since diminished and I sadly had to turn her down. Besides, I had far more pressing matters at hand, namely the emergence and campaign of terror of a new Dark Lord."

It didn't take a genius to know which Dark Lord he was referring to.

"Voldemort." Harry muttered. "So this was, what, around thirty-four years ago? What happened to her? Where is she now?"

"I don't know." Dumbledore sighed. "I never heard from her again. I later learned that she had been pronounced missing, most assumed that she had been yet another victim of the Death Eaters, a prognosis I myself shared. It was growing increasingly common even in those early days for Witches and Wizards to go missing overnight, kidnapped from their beds and never seen again. My own investigations turned up nothing. It was confirmed she had turned up to the site and set up camp, but when it was visited a week later by a colleague neither Clarissa or her assistant were present. There was no sign of a struggle or anything suspicious to indicate anything of a nefarious nature, with the only unusual report being high levels of ambient magic."

"So you think that she wasn't kidnapped after all? That she might have been on to something?" Harry asked, scratching at the stubble that lined his jaw.

'_That's not exactly a lot to go on.'_

"Perhaps." Dumbledore nodded. Hesitating he tore his eyes from the now obscured sun and looked to Harry. "I know that the hope that you might find something there is slim but..."

"The smallest hope can be the foundation on which victory is built." Harry remarked quietly, his mind elsewhere.

"A wise proverb. Who said that?" Dumbledore questioned inquisitively.

"I've no idea." Harry admitted with a snort. "It was one of those dumb motivational quotes stuck on a board at the Auror office. Kinda stuck with me though weirdly."

"Not weird at all." Dumbledore chuckled, some of his old twinkle returning to his eyes. "You have spent much of your life surviving and succeeding on but a scrap of hope, one of your many admirable qualities Harry."

The Headmasters words stoked the flame that Harry had allowed to die and he turned to look at the ghost with cold eyes, said ghost realising his faux pas a moment later as he met Harry's gaze. Harry coming to Hogwarts with little hope had been crucial to the man's plans after all.

"Ah, I...my apologies." The twinkle sputtered out in the shades eyes and he turned his gaze outside once more. Harry shook his head in return and chided himself. For a moment there he had almost forgotten what the man had done to him, allowed himself to slip back into old habits from a time when he had believed the great Albus Dumbledore to be a wise and benevolent guardian who only held Harry's best interests at heart.

How horrifying the truth was when it was revealed. How horrifying the man's power to once again place Harry at ease. As Dumbledore had once said, words were a magic unto themselves. A power the old Wizard had mastered.

"Where is this dig site located?" Harry questioned simply in the end, no trace of his anger present, consoling himself that the conversation was nearly finished.

"Fishbourne Roman Palace. An interesting place, it was actually the largest Roman residence built north of the Alps, eventually becoming the home of a powerful Roman magical family that immigrated to England after the conquest. Apparently the part that Clarissa was interested in was not the ruins of the villa, but a set of far older ruins it had been built over. That was where she believed she would find the proof she sought."

"Well its not much but its more than I had this morning. One weak lead is better than nothing." Harry sighed. He began to walk back to the desk, reaching for the resurrection stone.

"If there is nothing else then I'll be sending you on your way. We're done here."

"Wait a moment Harry, before you do there _is_ actually one more thing I have to tell you. A warning."

Turning back to the shade Harry was surprised to see him still gazing out the portal. Dusk was slowly becoming darkness and a dense mist was slowly beginning to settle on the Valley. Harry glanced at the outside edge of the portal as he spotted frost beginning to form there. He frowned. Even by the fickle and capricious nature of British weather, that was a rather abrupt change from the warm weather that had been present but moments before. He was distracted from his musing as Dumbledore spoke.

"_Something_ is coming Harry. Something dangerous. I cannot give you a name for this foe but it is obvious to any of the departed that great events are on the move. The dead stir restlessly where there should be peace, reality coils and bends at the passings of great forces beyond description and more and more souls pour into the next world whispering of an unstoppable force, a white blight that stripped the life from entire worlds. Indeed, recently I believe I begun to sense this great force they speak of. It is horrifying in its immensity, like a great hurricane on the horizon that I am powerless to avoid, a ravenous void that wishes to consume everything it can, be that the living or the dead." The shade turned from the portal to look Harry in the eye.

"That you should be bonded to the Hallows now, artefacts that possess immense power over death? Well, that is no coincidence I feel. It's almost like your Destiny is not yet complete."

"No."

"Harry-"

"Don't say that word again Dumbledore. Don't!" Harry barked, pointing an accusing finger at the ghost. "Professor Trelawney's self fulfilling prophecy is done. _I'm_ done. I did my duty and I lost my family and half my friends to the whispered words of a half senile Professor who claimed it was my destiny to die every other week. Is one prophecy not enough? My _so called_ Destiny, if there was ever such a thing, is complete. There isn't another."

"Destiny is not abstract concept Harry, it is perhaps the greatest force present in the universe, one that stretches its reach across every world I have learned of. Even as I speak I can sense its presence as it grows clearer and clearer. Yes, I see it now. We stand in the eye of the storm, you, I and the three Hallows. They are the key. _You_ are the key"

Harry gripped his fist. _Destiny_. How he despised that word. Destiny had been nothing but the bane of his life, it had stolen his family and friends from him, stripping him of any chance of happiness and love in his childhood and still it refused to slacken its grip upon him.

Never again.

"The Hallows are not some, some...tools of destiny Dumbledore and I would be a fool to believe so. Would the first Human who wielded the might of magic be wise to think himself a god? The first Human to light a fire that they were divinely ordained? I'm not some chosen one anymore. That part of my life is over."

"Wise words Harry, logical words, born out of an admirable humility and the pain that the prophecy brought to you. But Destiny cares little if you accept its hand in your life. Run from it, dread it, she'll arrive all the same...and sooner than you might think."

An alarm blared and Harry's head whipped to the his desk, several silver objects on his desk blaring out warnings and flashing red lights. It was the Proximity Alarm. And the Anti Apparition Ward. And the Anti Portkey Charms. And the Imperturbable Barrier. And the Muggle Repelling Field.

It was everything.

Every ward, charm and barrier he had placed around his home had just been breached. Not just breached, but smashed apart entirely. Even as he watched the blaring alarms sputtered as the spells that sustained them unravelled under the power of the one that had rent them apart.

Harry turned to Dumbledore but was stopped in his tracks by the change that had overcome the man. The serene smile he had once worn in life had returned, calm assurance almost flowing from him in waves. And yet his eyes were filled with such a look of pity and regret that even Harry was taken back.

"As you know, I've always prided myself on the ability to turn a phrase, so I before I depart I will say this. Pity the dead _and_ the living, for those who live without love and have those who have perished forsaken by it. For it is only with love that the chains that shackle the living and dead can be overcome and truly be set free."

And with those final words his form shimmered then vanished as the shade of Albus Dumbledore returned to his rest.

For a moment Harry stood frozen, torn between summoning him back the ghost who clearly knew more than he was letting on or attending to situation developing around him. His Auror training kicked in however and he turned to the immediate threat. He would be there all night trying to decrypt Dumbledore's typically cryptic and hypocritical final message and time had suddenly became a premium.

Clearing his mind of all distraction, he quickly walked over to the instruments that were connected to the spells layered on his home, a quick inspection finding that they were all now totally insert and lifeless. Harry cursed.

To penetrate all his wards would not be impossible but to do so all at once spoke volumes of the intruders power. The true oddity however was that they had done so at all. When you assaulted an enemy position protected by enchantments, the objective was to dismantle them without being noticed. That way you maintained the element of surprise with minimal loss in energy. Either the attacker was a powerful amateur who didn't realise the peril of brute forcing through magical defences or they were so confident in their chances of success that they discarded the need for the element of surprise.

Either way, Harry was going to teach them a sorely needed lesson he had spent the last six years teaching his enemies in the magical world.

Don't fuck with Harry Potter.

"Weeny!"

With a loud crack Harry's House Elf popped into existence next to him. A young House Elf female, she was dressed in an obviously well kept black suit in the style of a Victorian butler. She looked up at him, her alarm at the attack that she sensed doing nothing to diminish the devotion in her gaze.

"Yes Master Harry?"

"We seem to have some uninvited guests. You remember the lockdown drill?"

"Yes, but-"

"I'll be fine little one." Harry assured, smiling down at the young House Elf, knowing immediately what her protest would be. "But I can't concentrate on these guys if I'm worrying about you. Lockdown the house and retreat to the safe room. For me."

This drew a hesitant but nod from Weeny who disappeared with another crack. Just as Harry was about to apparate himself, a high pitched chime brought his attention to a large mirror hanging in the centre of the room. His viewing mirror, it was powered by a highly complex Protean Charm woven into its reflective surface. Whilst he primarily used it to call others, some select friends who also had their own mirrors, it served an important secondary function, that of a magical CCTV. Connected to several enchanted objects laid around his home and the grounds around it, he was able to view his surroundings from the safety of his office. And movement had just been detected.

Walking to the mirror, he pressed his hand to the metal frame, the tiniest push of his magic bringing it online and giving him his first view of the intruder as the glass shimmered and solidified into an image.

It was not what he expected to say the least.

A woman was stumbling through his front gate. Clothed in an interesting combination of tight leather pants and a frayed white blouse, a metal belt circled her waist, a belt containing a _sword_ of all things. Her face was obscured in their now deep dark that had come to the Lake District, but as she stepped into the light of one of the magical globes that lined the path to his house, she was revealed clearly. Her hair, an odd shade of ash white, was arranged in a loose bun that was quickly falling apart, the strand that covered her face only partially concealing a large scar that ran from jaw to cheekbone there. She was no great beauty Harry not so idly noted, but certainly very pretty in a striking sort of way.

She was also wounded. A gloved hand was clutching her side covering a long cut that was bleeding heavily. No major arteries had been touched but bleeding out was a very real possibility if she didn't get treatment soon. Harry smothered his urge to move to help her. He didn't know what was happening yet or why she had forced her way into his home.

It was only when she glanced back and started to run, stumbling under the pain of her wound, that Harry began to suspect that things weren't as they first appeared.

His suspicions were confirmed when his gate exploded in a storm of magical fire and splinters. The white haired woman was thrown from her feet by the blast, but admirably recovered quickly, barely taking a moment to recover before she was running towards the house. Harry narrowed his eyes as he manipulated the mirror to another viewpoint to better see the surroundings.

'_So she's not attacking me deliberately but running from someone? Was it her or the others who broke the wards? Who are they?'_

It was as the smoke began to clear from the burning ruins of his oak gate that Harry got his answer.

Striding through the swirling smoke were what at first appeared metal clad monstrosities. They were all universally tall, almost ludicrously so, forms armoured in jagged black metal and padded with dark leather, wickedly sharp sabres clutched in their hands. The black armour they wore was fashioned in a grim parody of a human skeleton, ribs along the chest, long splinters of iron wrapping around gauntlets and boots to simulate hands and feet, and last but most certainly not least, a grinning skull that obscured their faces under a Viking style horned helmet. Moving in a column there were eight in total, marching in an obviously disciplined manner showing that there was intelligent thought under the darkly elaborate panoply.

At the head of the group strode the obvious leader. Garbed largely in the same style of armour as his followers skull mask and all, black robes swirled around his legs and upper armour, all etched in bright silver to denote apparent rank. The most stark difference between him and the others however was his weapon. Rather than a sword he wielded a staff, a bright glowing white ball sitting at its tip which was wrapped in dark spiked iron to keep it in place. Either a spell caster of some sort or a mundane given a magical weapon to wield Harry hypothesised.

As he studied the group as they began to march down his path after the woman, Harry considered his options. He could teleport away to summon reinforcements or fight, the former being the wisest option. After all he was facing unknown foes of an unknown capability. It would be foolish in the extreme to face them alone. But he also knew that he didn't have any choice but to stay. The woman, whoever she was, was in mortal danger. If she didn't bleed out before he returned with help then the bone fetishists behind her would finish the job. Not for the first time he reminded himself to invest in a device to call for aid from the Auror department, not unlike the coins that Hermione had fashioned for the DA club back in Hogwarts.

Thinking of the woman, Harry couldn't help but chuckle, even as he summoned his Auror gear to him. If Hermione could see him now she would be slapping him over the head complaining about him and his irritating 'saving people thing'.

Harry froze for a moment, the most overwhelming sense of deja vu washing him.

Unknown odds, bad guys with a death fetish and his 'saving people thing'.

"Ah shit, here we go again." Harry grumbled. "I swear to god if these clowns call themselves anything with death in the title I'm going to be annoyed."

Then with a twist and crack he was gone.

* * *

**AN: **

**Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnddd done.**

**Love it? Hate it? Leave a review and tell me what you think. I'm not thin skinned so don't hold back any criticism, though obviously insults that contribute nothing to improving the story will be ignored with extreme prejudice. Ain't nobody got time for that.**

**On another note, how about that Witcher TV series eh? Personally with so many franchises being ruined recently I'm remaining cautious. The casting was...meh. Henry Cavill as Geralt turned out surprisingly well, at the very least appearance wise he certainly looks the role, I mean they really blew the budget on that lip CGI. The rest however has been sub par for many reasons. What they were even thinking with Anya Chalotra as Yennefer I don't even know. She looks nothing like how she is described in the books, her doe eyes alone kill it for me. Hopefully her acting makes up for it but who knows? Yen was always going to be a hard character to portray, only going to be harder when the actress, even post make up, shares little in common with the character she is portraying. **

**Anyway I'm killing this before it turns into a rant, I'm off to get killed playing new operators I barely know in R6. See ya in the next one.**

**Edit 18/07/20: Corrected some spelling and grammar mistakes. **


	2. Chapter Two

**AN: **

**Before we start we need to clear up some confusion that I got in many PMs, this fic uses both book and game cannon meaning it will follow the games but will continuously reference the books. So for those people who haven't read the books or played the games or even done both, there are a few things you might not be familiar with as I write this with the assumption that my readers have either read the books and/or played the game. **

**However fret not as the Witcher wiki has some excellent articles available to clear up anything you are confused about as well as a timeline article so you can familiarise yourself with some of the things that are referenced. And if you can't find anything there then just leave your question in a review and I will do my best to respond. **

**And so without further ado…**

* * *

'_One foot in the front of the other. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other.'_

Ciri repeated the words in her head reverently, the mantra almost a prayer to her body not to give up as she ran into the darkness and away from the burning ruins of the gate. Her heaving breaths were almost as ragged as her body, a dozen consecutive interdimensional jumps and battle wounds beginning to take their toll. Her hand was pressed to the most recent addition to her body, a long slice from an Elven sabre running across her stomach. Long and shallow, it thankfully hadn't gone deep enough to hit anything vital but the steady of trickle of blood from between her hands would do her flight from the Wild Hunt no favours.

A large house loomed ahead of her, a mansion really and rather beautiful in its design. It possessed none of the ostentation and garish decoration like other stately houses she had seen before but was rich in a tasteful and minimalist fashion, the edifice designed to blend gracefully with the landscape and not clash with it.

And it was not the sight alone that distracted her. There was something strange about the building, the sight tugging at her soul like a magnet, calling to her magic like a moth to a light. Perhaps if she had completed more of her lessons with her Mother or Avallac'h she might have been able to identify the feeling, but her tutelage under the first had been too short and the second was more concerned with teaching her how to control the Elder Blood than comparatively 'mundane' magic. She would have paused to take in the sight and sensation if the heavy crunching footfalls of her pursuers behind her hadn't forced her to press on.

As she ran, repeating her mantra and feeling her strength slowly drain from her exhausted limbs she lamented the situation she once more found herself in. Under any other circumstances she would never have run towards someone's home for refuge. The Wild Hunt was merciless as it was unrelenting and Ciri had learnt the hard way the perils of seeking refuge with anyone other than Avallac'h. The awful memories of the burnt ruins of half a dozen homes and villages ran through her mind before she forced the thoughts away, not wishing to think of the kind souls that once inhabited them.

Unlike then, this time she hadn't chosen this house by choice. It had been either lose them in the grounds of this estate and hope that the lack of lights meant no one was home or hand herself over and endure a fate worse than death. She had chosen the former and her usual bad luck had struck again, the vanguard of the Hunt spotting her with the navigator taking an unusually violent potshot at her fleeing form.

'_Perhaps they've finally had enough and decided to cut their losses. Gods know I'm tempted to let them if it would avoid **that**.'_

Now all choice had been taken from her, being herded more than fleeing into the front yard of the palatial mansion. She took in the area with a quick glance, heart sinking as she saw nothing that could be of use to aid her in her escape such as a stables. Worse yet the yard was enclosed on all sides with the large oak door of the house being her only exit, in reality not an exit at all if it would lead to a sleeping family.

Before she could make her decision the gravel beneath her feet exploded, the force sending her flying into the oak door with a cry. Stunned from the blast and dazed from her head striking the door she tried to climb to her feet only to find the last of her strength gone as she collapsed against the steps. Bleeding from gravel stone shredding her body and a dozen other wounds her body finally gave up, willpower no longer being enough to sustain her. Not even at the height of her training at Kaer Morhen had she felt such bone aching weariness. Was this the magical exhaustion her Mother had warned her of?

"Finally! Truly you lived up to your name Zireael. I believe a Swallow would be easier to catch than you. I will be well rewarded for catching you I think."

The Navigator who had spoken entered the yard with his minions filtering in behind him, the ice cold mist that always accompanied the Hunt following on their heels. Ciri didn't recognise him, some no name student of Caranthir no doubt. She grimaced as blood began to pool in the corner of her mouth from where she had apparently bitten it from her fall.

"Rewarded for what? Getting lucky? How many Navigators are still conscious after all those jumps? Two? Three?" Ciri hissed, bitterness filling her.

"Three including I of the twenty aboard Naglfar. But you must forgive me Zireael. Not all of us are lucky enough to be born with your gift. At the very least it will soon be back where it rightfully belongs, Elder Blood running through Elven veins, and not the body of a lesser race. Mayhap that will be my reward? I do not share our late Kings aversion to Human females after all..."

Revulsion filled Ciri and she spat the blood in her mouth at the Navigator, soiling the robes around his waist.

"Try and it and I promise me you won't be a man for very long!" She spat, crawling back weakly against the steps.

"Tch." The navigator wiped the blood off his robes without success. "Human blood is always a pain to wash out. I promise before I return you to King Eredin I'll teach you the meaning of pain you glorified broodmare. I'll start with the legs I think. You won't need those w-"

"Lord Navigator." One of the warriors interrupted. "Someone is approaching. Human it appears."

Ciri and the Navigator looked past the group to the entrance to the yard. A lone figure had indeed arrived, form looming out of the mist. A man if his stature was to be believed his form was shrouded in a great coat, a hood serving to hide his face in the shadows of the night. Ciri's heat sank as the warriors turned to face him. Not another one. Not another innocent dying because of her.

The man suddenly shouted something in a strange tongue, the language more pleasing to the ear than common speak though not approaching the like of Elder Speech. None of the Elves replied to the man, not that they would even if they had understood him.

That didn't stop Ciri at least trying to give the man a chance.

"Run! Go, get out of here!" She had no doubt the man didn't understand a word of her language, foreign as it was to his world, but hoped fervently her obvious panic and situation would drive the man to flee. Her hopes were dashed however when he simply remained where he was. Frozen and confused no doubt. The Wild Hunt was a terrifying sight.

"Shut. Up." The Navigator hissed, a vicious kick into her wound eliciting a scream out of her. Fresh blood seeped from between her fingers.

"A local. Dispose of him. Erridil, shackles if you'd please."

One of the warriors broke off from the group and began to stride towards the man whilst the rest turned back to Ciri. The white haired woman tried to back away but could offer no resistance as her arms were wrenched together and magical shackles were brought to her wrists to be clamped together. She turned her head and shut her eyes, trying and failing to stop the tears coming to her eyes yet unwilling to let her now captors see them. She mourned that a fate she had once escaped would be hers once more. She mourned that another innocent would die on her account.

She mourned that she would never be able to see Geralt or Mother again. To say sorry. To tell them how much she loved them.

However it was not the cold enchanted dimeritium of the shackles clamping down on her wrists that interrupted her thoughts as she expected but a flash of light so bright that she felt it even from behind her clenched eyes and an almighty clatter of metal that resounded around the yard. She opened her eyes and blinked at the incredible scene.

The man was still alive and was still standing exactly where she had last seen him, form still cloaked in the mist and shadow of the foggy night, though now in his right hand lay a stick of all things. The nameless warrior of the Hunt however lay prostrate in front of him, form twitching and gasping. It was only when she saw the expanding pool of blood around his head that Ciri understood what had happened. The Warriors throat had been cut. He was drowning in his own blood.

'_How...'_

"Sorcerer." The Navigator hissed, answering Ciri's unasked question. At the word the Warriors tensed and drew their swords, spreading out into the yard with practised efficiency. Hope surged and flared through Ciri like a lightning strike in dry grass. A sorcerer! Or whatever this world considered one. Ciri had had bad experiences with their kind before but she would surely take an uncertain fate at the hands of the unknown stranger than the certain chance of imprisonment, rape and death with the Wild Hunt and Eredin.

At a sharp command from the Navigator, the six warriors of the Wild Hunt attacked, surging as one to overwhelm the sorcerer as was their style when facing a practitioner of the magical arts. Rather than trying to put distance between him and his opponents Ciri knew was the preference of Sorcerers, the Stranger instead surprised her by _advancing, _long loping strides taking him towards the charging Elves. The man's arm came up and with a flick of the stick in his hand chaos erupted. The vines that elegantly trailed up the side of the house writhed to unnatural life and seized the two Warriors close to them, the duo being carried into the air with panicked shouts.

With another flick of his wrist and stick, a purple orb erupted from the now clearly magical instrument. The two closest warriors it had been aimed at leapt to the side, elven elegance making them move in their plate armour with a speed and agility that would shame all but the greatest of Human warriors. The orb however froze in mid air and blazed with violet light. The two warriors who had since continued their charge against the stranger were jerked back as if pulled by an invisible rope, flying through the air to collide with a violent clatter of metal, both stuck to the orb like a magnet as it visibly flared between their struggling forms.

The last two warriors had finally closed within striking distance of the magic user and Ciri's breath hitched, knowing that a Sorcerer had little defence against such a close foe. The first raised his sword high to cut down the man in a decapitating strike only to stare with confusion at his empty hands as they came down with no sword. Looking around, the Elf glanced up only to freeze seeing his own weapon floating over him like a guillotine blade. The blade did not plunge down however but instead flung itself at the warriors comrade who was himself set to end the Sorcerers life from behind. The blade speared itself through the warriors visor with a sickening crunch and the Elf fell like a puppet with its strings cut.

Shouting in grief and rage the disarmed Warrior drew the viscous, serrated dagger at his hip and swung it at the Human only for the man to block the weapon with an outstretched arm, sparks erupting from the cloak of the man as if the blade had just struck metal armour and not soft leather. The Sorcerer didn't give the warrior another chance to strike for a more exposed part of his body and with a swish of his stick a red light plunged into the chest of the Elf, the metal breastplate imploding like it was made of wet paper. The Elf fell without a sound, blood seeping from his armour in rivers.

The remaining warriors were not fought as much as they were slaughtered. With a snap of the Sorcerer's fingers the purple orb which still held the two warriors together exploded, a blinding purple energy enveloping their forms like a miniature sun being sun. When Ciri finally managed to blink her eyes clear of the bright light she looked towards where they had been trapped only to find nothing, nothing but steaming chunks of metal, flesh and blackened leather. Another Elf, one of the warriors who had been captured by the vines who had managed to free himself and retrieve his sword, was picked up by an invisible force and smashed repeatedly into the ground and walls, his corpse flung away like trash after a half a dozen fierce blows against the stone walls of the house.

He didn't get back up.

Ciri gaped at the scene, the foot soldiers of Eredin flying around the yard in bloody heaps. The unknown magic user hadn't just killed the warriors of the Hunt, he had _destroyed_ them. It would not be impossible for a Sorcerer of her world to achieve a similar feat but not with such speed or efficiency. The magic of her world was a tempestuous force, moulded and used with careful and considered application. Only the most basic of spells could be cast quickly and only the most powerful of Sorcerers and Sorceresses could achieve more than that.

The stranger however wielded magic like an artist wielded a brush, almost literally with his wooden magical instrument. No incantation or shouted spell phrases, just will and power. It would have been mesmerising if not for the violent result.

The Navigator chose that moment to enter the fray, staff impacting the ground with an almighty bang, the power contained at it's tip rushing towards the Human. A glowing blue shield erupted around him and his hood turned towards the new threat.

"Filthy beast! You dare to strike down your betters! I shall make an example out of you that will be burned into the genetic memory of your race!"

The foreign sorcerer said nothing back, instead launching his own attack at the navigator, the magical bolt dodged by the Elf who was no less slow or agile than his subordinates.

The duel that followed was titanic. Lightning and fire was thrown by the Navigator, his attacks scattering and scorching the gravel of the yard as they splashed harmlessly against the unflinching defences of the stranger. The stranger in turn sent out spells the like of which Ciri had never seen or heard of before. Sizzling red bolts and sickly green sickles of energy crashed with ear piercing screeches and bangs against the Navigators own shield and the wall of the house. Dark iron chains conjured themselves out of thin air and tried to wrap themselves around the limbs of the Elf who responded with waves of power thrown from his staff which blew the chains away and turned the courtyard into a storm of gravel. At one point the stranger even transformed common objects into animals, a wave of his hand turning garden pots into barking dogs and stone benches into snarling Wolves, all of whom did their best to savage the Navigator before he brought them down.

Vision swimming from the pain of her wounds and exhaustion, Ciri could still see that despite the might on display the duel was a foregone conclusion. The strangers magic was the equal of the Navigators in power but more importantly was far quicker to summon. For every attack the Navigator sent against his foe three were returned and the strain was clearly showing on the Elf as he slowed, several attacks that he once dodged now clipped his robes and armour which itself was ragged and warped almost beyond recognition. The taunts that the Navigator had once shouted had ceased, though if that was because of exhaustion or because the fool had finally realised the pointless nature of goading someone in a language they couldn't understand Ciri wasn't sure.

Crushing the head of a black wolf with his staff the Elf launched an almighty attack towards the stranger, a fierce firestorm erupted from his hand as he howled incantations in Elder Speech to keep the onslaught going. The power behind the spell was such that it forced the Human back, the man slowly retreating towards the wall of the yard, both hands bracing against his conjured shield. The barrier held however and after a minute the stream of fire petered out, the Navigator slumping against his staff in exhaustion from the power he had put into the spell. The almost foreign feeling of hope surged within Ciri as she saw the Navigator falter. Could the foreign sorcerer actually win?

It was then that Ciri saw it, the glint in the shadow of the wall and realised that the Navigator had never intended to defeat the stranger but instead force him towards someone who could. The remaining warrior had managed to free himself from the vines that had ensnared him and was even now thrusting his dagger towards the unsuspecting Human.

It had been a trap.

"Behind you!" Ciri screamed. Her warning echoed around the yard and the sorcerer miraculously seemed to understand her warning, spinning around and catching the blade that had aimed for his neck in the shoulder instead, the blade slipping past the apparently strange cloak he wore. Snarling with pain the stranger grasped the wrist of the warrior with one hand and _twisted, _the body of the Human and Elf collapsing in on themselves as if sucked into a magical singularity and disappearing with a sharp crack.

Before the two shocked witnesses could even process what had happened the sorcerer and warrior appeared again, their forms spiralling out of a mid air in the middle of the courtyard. The Elf fell to his knees, retching and gurgles echoing from his skull faced helm, fingers scrambling at the straps that held the helmet in place. The stranger standing above him grasped the dagger embedded in his shoulder and wrenched out the blade with a painful gasp and foreign curse, looking down at the Elf at warrior of the Wild Hunt as he finally managed to pull the helmet from his head and violently vomit all over the gravel.

The sorcerer did not even wait for the Elf to finish emptying the contents of his stomach over the ground before he fired red spell into the warriors head, the Elf slumping over ignominiously into his own bodily fluids.

The Navigator didn't waste any time. Staff now more of a crutch than the magical tool and badge of office that it was, the Elf stumbled away from the stranger, Ciri apparently forgotten as he opened a gateway to flee, the courtyard flooded in bright light from the interdimensional portal. The Sorcerer didn't seem content to accept his enemies retreat and ran after the Elf, spells flying. The attacks impacted the hastily erected shield of the Navigator and it seemed that he would escape, one outstretched hand bare meters away from salvation. That was until one of the spells, a sizzling yellow beam that seemed to burn the very air around it pierced the Elf's shield and flew into the blazing rift. Time seemed to slow, an unnatural silence descended on the world. The portal contracted, warped, spasmed as two fundamentally different magics met for the first time.

Then the rift in space and time detonated.

A shrieking maelstrom of white and yellow magical power engulfed the Navigator and spiraled outwards in a shockwave that covered the courtyard with the force of a thousand dancing dream bombs. Ciri was powerless to avoid the exploding portal, body exhausted and power drained and could only watch it rush towards her with wide eyes. But with a crack of displaced air the stranger was there once more, his form covering hers as his glowing shield flared into existence over them both.

The magical storm howled around them, gravel whipping through the air like missiles. Such was the strength of the two competing forces that the earth cracked and the very stone around them melted as two different magical energies, never designed to interact, lashed out at the world around them. The shield held however and the ground it covered turned into an island of normality in an ocean of chaos and destruction.

As destructive as the carnage around her was however Ciri only had eyes for the man crouched above her, the shrieking magical storm but a distant echo as she studied the face of a the face stranger now revealed to her without the shadow of his hood to conceal him.

He was...young. Very young, around her age if she made a guess. Emerald eyes a shade darker than her own stared back at her and studied her in turn. A messy head of dark curls framed said eyes, a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt peeking out from behind his fringe. Handsome to be sure, the eyes especially. But it was not his looks that drew drew her attention, she had seen many handsome men in her time after all and knew better than to allow herself to be distracted. No what drew her attention was his...aura, for lack of a better word. There was something about him. Something about him that called to her as Geralt had once done but far differently and in a far stronger fashion.

For what felt like an eternity the two examined each other, nary a word passed between them and yet more was exchanged in that moment than any spoken language could communicate. If either had been more familiar with the mysteries of creation they might have known the significance of what happened at that moment of their meeting. As it was they could do nothing but stare at each other in confusion at the strange feelings running through their souls.

The magical storm coming to a close drew their attention from the other and after a moment to make sure it was no longer needed the sorcerer ended the spell that shielded them. Hot air immediately rushed in to the now exposed pocket they had occupied, a testament to the strength of the magical conflagration that had taken place. As the dust slowly cleared the duo looked down at the crater where the Elf had once been.

It seemed that the Navigator had indeed made it to the portal. The top half of him at least. His legs and groin left lay at the edge of the crater, Elven blood soaking into the charred rock and soil.

They were dead Ciri realised. They were all dead. More would come no doubt, they always did, but for now Ciri was safe. She had hope.

Hope. For the first time in days she felt that almost foreign emotion, the heady feeling making her head swim like she had drunk a gallon of Markham ale and she slumped down against the steps, her head coming down to gently rest against the stone. If she had thought she was tired before the wave of exhaustion that rose over her taught her a new meaning of the word. She didn't even have the strength to lift her arm and contented herself with simply staring up at unknown stars of a new world through the dust that hung in the air.

The emotionless analytical side of her mind that had been drilled into her during her training as a would be Witcher recognised that the adrenaline that had been keeping her conscious was leaving her body. The rest of her mind told it to shut up and go to sleep.

The last thing to pass through her mind as darkness claimed her were the green eyes of the stranger.

_Why were they so familiar?_

* * *

She was still breathing Harry noted with a sigh of relief as he kneeled over the Ashen haired woman. A quick diagnostic spell showed that she was in no danger of dying. Her heart rate was weaker than normal but steady, a combination of blood loss and exhaustion responsible for the trip to dreamland.

Some of the readings were off however. The read on her magic was completely haywire, simultaneously seeming to show she was a squib and then a moment later flying off the charts with activity before calming again. Recasting the spell showed the same results.

'_Mysteries on mysteries.'_

Quickly applying some first aid ingrained into ever Auror, he cleaned her wounds with whispered spells before conjuring bandages to stop the bleeding. Many of the cuts were small and shallow punctures caused by the sharp gravel that had been blown around during the fight. There were however quite a few large lacerations obviously inflicted at the hands of her pursuers that he took extra care with. Whilst they were all shallow and non life threatening, the sheer amount were astounding. How she had managed to keep running with so many wounds he didn't know.

'_Adrenaline's a hell of a drug.'_

Talking of drugs he pulled a vial from one of his pockets in his Basilisk skin coat, popping the cork with his teeth and carefully feeding half into the ash haired woman's mouth before swallowing the rest himself. Standard issue Auror healing potion that combined pain relief and tissue regeneration properties in a single bottle. It wasn't a miracle cure but was damn useful and would slow the bleeding significantly. Turning to his own wound he packed the left over bandages into his shoulder before securing the makeshift dressing against his coat to hold it in place.

Sighing in relief as the pain in his shoulder receded to a dull ache he gave a final look over his patient with a critical eye. Healing had never been his speciality and he had only ever mastered the basics. Further treatment would have to wait until he got her inside and took a look in his potions cabinet.

Turning away from his mystery guest and climbing to his feet he looked around at his devastated courtyard. Where once there had been pristine gravel there were now craters, corpses and blackened earth. A classic case if there was ever one that no plan survives contact with the enemy.

He had not gone into the battle planning to kill and kill with quite the prejudice he did. In fact he had been planning to take them alive and use lethal force only if needed. But that had quickly changed when he had approached the two that had been left at the destroyed gate as the rest chased after the girl towards his home. Words had failed, the duo seeming to not understand his language and his stunners had bounced harmlessly off their armour, some form of enchantment allowing it to resist them. As there was obviously a limit to how powerful he could make the _Stupefy_ spell he had been forced to turn his spells lethal, curses powered by the Eldar Wand being far more effective at cleaving through their macabre armour than stunning spells.

Even with his stun first and ask questions policy evolving into a bloodbath he had made every effort to take a few alive for questioning. The first had been the two he had caught with the vines, though he had underestimated how much the buggers could wriggle. The second had been the two he had immobilised in the Orb of Zi Wei but unfortunately he was forced to detonate it when the enchantments in their armour had begun to weaken the Orb sufficiently enough that they were in danger of breaking free. And the third had been the one that he stunned after taking him on a side along joyride. And he..well...

Harry looked down at the corpse at his feet, the one he had stunned lying in an ignoble heap, body burnt to a crisp by the power of the magical vortex that had ravaged the front of Harry's home. His loss was unfortunate as that now left the Wizard with too many questions and no answers.

Not the least of which was that his enemies weren't even Human.

Harry knelt down in the blackened gravel and studied the face of the attacker using the tip of his wand to turn the burnt face from side to side, confirming what he had seen when the being had taken off his helmet to vomit. At a glance the stranger seemed Human, two eyes, a nose, a mouth lay in all the right places but upon closer inspection this notion was dispelled. The face was too narrow, cheekbones too high, chin too pointed to be natural on a Human face. And then there were the ears. Tapered to a sharp tip.

It was like Elves had stepped out of Lord of the Rings and right on to top his doorstep. Except rather than be wise and benevolent beings they were villains dressed in bone armour, incapable of speaking his language and using magic unfamiliar to him.

'_What the actual fuck have I gotten myself into?'_

_***Crack**_

Harry's wand whipped towards the sound only to lower it immediately when he saw it was only Weeny. To Harry's concern however the House Elf was distraught, looking around with wide eyes, long fingers grasping at her uniform in tight fists as if she was looking upon a waking nightmare.

"Weeny? What's wrong?"

"They're real! They're actually r-real! Weeny mean- W-W-Weeny never thought t-they would c-come...back..." The House Elf stammered, hyperventilating as she stared down at the corpses, especially the one without the helm.

"Weeny, you need to calm down. What are you talking about?" Harry implored, grasping his friend by her arms as she began to wail and claw at her long ears.

"It can't be! It can't be. Don't let it b-be them. Don't let it be t-them!"

"Weeny! Breathe for Merlin's sake!"

His words had no effect on the diminutive creature as she continued to panic, wriggling furiously as she tried to escape his grasp, tears streaming from her large eyes. Harry had never seen her in such a state. Even Dobby in one of his panicked fits had never acted like this hysterical.

"Weeny, I order you to calm down and breathe!" Harry yelled, hating himself for using the ingrained magic of their bond as he said it. The results however spoke volumes as she immediately stilled, blinking away her tears and staring up at him with watery eyes, panicked breathes slowing.

"Weeny...Weeny is sorry Master Potter but...but...Weeny is sorry." The House Elf whispered. Harry pulled her into a hug, the House Elf barely coming up to his shoulder even when he was knelt down..

"You've nothing to apologise for. Absolutely nothing. Do you know these people?"

"They're...they're bad people. _Very, __very_ bad people. They did _awful_ things to House Elves, long, long ago. Then they left. It's been so long, we...we never thought they would return." The House Elf explained, voice muffled by his shoulder.

Harry had never heard of such a thing. The history of House Elves was rather a mystery despite their kind being widespread across much of the world. All that was well known about them was that they had been there alongside Mankind since the earliest records began.

"Weeny I need you to tell me precisely who they are. _What _they are." Harry asked gently. The House Elf pulled her head away from his shoulder and hands returned to scrunching her uniform.

"Weeny can't. Weeny shouldn't. This is...this is a part of Weeny's people we don't share with the Masters. Our history is one of the few things House Elves have for themselves." Weeny whimpered, Harry's heart aching at the sound. He didn't have the luxury of allowing her secrets however. He needed answers.

"I respect that Weeny. I told you when I took you in I would never order you to do something you didn't want to do. But our lives are in danger, mine, yours and...whoever she is." Harry added with a glance towards her unconscious form. "I'm sure the other House Elves would respect that."

Weeny was silent for moment, turning to look at the burnt corpse below them, steam still rising from its form. She turned back to him, apparently decided.

"They...they are called the Aen Undod. They are Elves, _real _Elves Weeny means, we…we only adopted the name after they created us, created House Elves."

The words now spilled from her lips as if a floodgate had been opened.

"They were cruel, awful, horrible beyond even the worst of Human masters and mistresses! They treated us like animals, experimented on us, hunted us for sport so that they could enjoy chasing smarter prey. They...they created us the way that we are, warped our magic so that we would have to bind ourselves to magical beings, to the Aen Undod...otherwise...otherwise our magic would consume us."

Listening to her words Harry's disdain for the newly revealed Elves grew to greater heights. Wizards and Witches had committed some atrocious acts over the millennia since magic become widespread but Harry didn't think he had ever heard his kind as doing anything as hideous as creating a slave race to torment for fun and sport, a race designed to die without them.

It was altogether evil.

"And then one day they left. Our song keepers tell of great and terrible battles between Aen Undod and Humans though we do not remember why or who won. All Weeny's people know is that we never saw the Elven masters again and later we bonded to Wizards and Witches to survive."

Harry's mind was racing at at the information he was being given, boggling at the timescales that Weeny was referring to. Nearly all modern Wizarding records and more specifically records of House Elves went back to the late Kingdoms of Ancient Egypt some three thousand years ago. For what Weeny was saying to be true meant that these..._Aen Undod_ Elves came some time before then. Which was saying a lot as that still left a period of some two thousand years of history between the rise of civilisation and the latest possible date that they could have disappeared.

For each question that was answered two took its place. Why had Elves and Humanity fought? Were the Elves who attacked them the same as the Elves who were alive then? Where did they go?

Forcibly Harry turned his mind from the intriguing and mildly worrying mystery to Weeny again, the House Elf continuing to talk even as Harry poured over the world altering information she had just given.

"...all these tales the song keepers told us and Weeny almost couldn't believe they were true. But you should have heard them say what they would do to that lady! They're as awful as the stories say!" Weeny hissed, her anguish turning to anger as she glared at the dead Elves. Weeny's words suddenly clicked with Harry.

"Wait...you understand their language?" Harry asked, astounded. Weeny nodded.

"The stories say we were born with nothing and they gave us nothing. What we inherited from them we took, one of which was the speech of Weeny's people."

"I could kiss you right now!" Harry praised with a laugh, rising to his feet and dusting the dirt of battle off his clothes. "We could actually get some answers. I-"

"Master Harry, you're bleeding!"

Distracted, Harry looked down at to see a steady trickle of blood flowing down his shirt. There was only so much a basic potion and sloppy bandage work could do. He pressed a hand to his coat to keep more pressure on the wound.

"It's fine, one of the buggers just nicked me, I can manage until I've got everything in order again." Harry assured her. His answer didn't seem to satisfy his diminutive friend however.

"Oh no. Mistress Hermione warned me about this! Weeny she said, take care of Harry and don't let him tell you he's fine when he's really not!"

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. Of course Hermione had given secret instructions to his House Elf. He loved the woman like she was his sister but she really could be a mother hen sometimes, a trait Harry was sure she had picked up from Mrs Weasley despite how often the two contrasting women clashed.

"-on't let him run off to do his saving people thing without letting me know first, don't let him 'forget' to reply to his work letters, don't let him sneak off with her bondmate to go to the-"

"Weeny." Harry interrupted in a firm voice, the House Elf ceasing her repetition of the secret list of commands Harry's friend had given her.

"This _really_ isn't the moment for this. I know I've a tendency to get...carried away on occasion" Harry admitted reluctantly. "But this isn't one of them. We've got a limited amount of time to get the wards back up and something more substantial in place before more uninvited guests turn up. I can't go back inside and just _rest_ this off."

Weeny's face began to scrunch of he talked, the dreaded pout beginning to emerge. Harry prayed she never discovered her puppy eyes could be more effective than any logical argument. He raised his hand to cut off her questions and pout.

"Take our...guest to one of the spare rooms, treat anything I might have missed and make her comfortable. But place some wards on the doors so she can't just wander around and so we know when she wakes up. Then come back out so and you can treat this wound whilst I work."

"Should Weeny be worried about her?" The House Elf asked, objection now seemingly forgotten as she glanced at the woman. "They were saying such awful things. Surely the white haired Miss can't be that bad if the Aen Undod Elves don't like her."

"Don't worry, we're not keeping her prisoner. Just...making sure she stays in one place until we can get some answers about what the hell all _this_ was about." Harry explained, motioning to the carnage around him. "Now get going. Sooner you're done the sooner you can treat this little thing."

The House Elf was still clearly torn but thankfully understood the gravity of the situation and apparated away with the stranger in tow. Silence once more returned to the courtyard.

For a moment his mind stayed on his departed friend. If what she said was true her home had just come under attack by what the House Elf equivalent of Satan and the Nazis combined into one. He had faith in his friend to stay composed and alert but he would keep an eye on her irregardless. She wasn't made for this life and he had already lost one House Elf dear to him.

"Priorities Potter. Priorities." Harry whispered to himself. Taking a deep breath he cleared his mind of questions and mysteries with some difficulty.

Priority number one, defence. None of these world shattering revelations and ashen haired girls mattered if friends of the dead Elves turned up. He had to get the wards back up and install some serious barriers. For a moment he toyed with the idea of taking the girl and retreating to a safer place before immediately discarding the idea. Going elsewhere meant involving others and if there was one thing Harry hated it was others getting hurt because of his problems. The Ministry and Auror office was also a bust. The Elves had demonstrated some serious teleportation spell work capable of penetrating magical barriers. As long as an army didn't turn up the Aurors would likely be more than capable of fighting them off but too many innocent Ministry workers would be caught in the crossfire.

The shattered door of his storage shed caught his eye. The oak door was hanging off its hinges but it wasn't the damaged woodwork which drew his eye but the stones that lay inside. Ward stones, two dozen of them, enough to cover his entire estate in one very specific spell. The Fidelius charm.

He had begun the process of cloaking his home in one of the most powerful spells in existence several years ago when the media attention had become too intolerable. His court case against Gringotts, being one of the most eligible bachelors in all of Europe, his promotion in the Aurors, all serving to drive the media into a frenzy and destroy any illusion of privacy he had built for himself in the Lake District.

The tale of how he had ended the media siege of his home was a long and boring one, filled with mind numbing court battles, back room deals and admonishments from Hermione for thinking of cutting himself off from the world. But it seemed his seemingly wasted effort in creating them would now save his life. The hardest, most expensive and most time consuming part of the Fidelius Charm was the Ward Stones needed to anchor it. With them in place he could have it up within a few hours.

There was no guarantees that it would work. But there was no other ward more powerful than the Fidelius in all the Wizarding World and as his old Auror mentor said...

Against an unknown enemy there's no such thing as overkill.

"Looks like I've got a plan." Harry muttered to himself, a flick of his wand floating the twenty four large stones out of the shed to rest in front of him. "Now I just need a secret keeper."

Luckily he knew the perfect person.

* * *

The Wild Hunt and Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon were not the only visitors to Harry's home that night. High above on the cliffs over the Potter residence stood a sight that would have astounded even the well travelled Harry. A lily white Unicorn mare, as stunning for it's beauty as it was for its rarity.

The magical creature watched as the Wizard far below flicked his wand, a shining silver stag emerging to bound off into the distance. The mare huffed as if in approval.

A gentle breeze rolled over the Unicorn and it's long mane drifted gently in the breeze. It turned it's head, not fooled by the attempted stealth of the observer.

"You are too late young Ihuarraquax. Your Ciri's life has already been saved."

The now revealed Ihuarraquax trotted forward, pace slow as if wary. He did not look down at the events below but rather kept his gaze locked on his fellow Unicorn.

"You are Laruthrax. I have heard many a story of you from my herd."

"I'm sure you have." The newly revealed Laruthrax acknowledged with a snort. "Tell me, do they still call me 'Laruthrax the time addled'? I always did like that one.'

"They did when I first joined them. Recently...recently many have began to re-examine your theories."

"Oh, theories is it? And what do you think Ihuarraquax? Do _you_ believe that my warnings and prophecy are mere theory?"

Ihuarraquax did not reply immediately and instead stepped closer to the edge, nostrils flaring as he breathed in magical energy and smoke coming from below. Many unfamiliar smells come to him but also familiar scents, the unique musk of Cirilla and fresh Aen Elle blood, the handiwork of the Wizard below if he wasn't mistaken. Ihuarraquax like all Unicorns was slow to trust but any slayer of Aen Elle and protector of Ciri would certainly be well on their way to gaining Ihuarraquax's.

"In my short years I have learnt that nothing in this cosmos is certain. I am not sure what to think."

"Then you are already wiser than most." The mare replied quietly, watching as the stones Harry had arranged in front of him began to float off into the distance. The ways in which the Humans of this world had crafted their magic was truly wondrous. It was not the most powerful she had ever seen but most certainly the most versatile in its application.

"That being said...I believe that our Elders minds are clouded and stymied on this matter. An opportunity in this Wizard and Ciri has arisen to break a cycle which has long gone unbroken. You, our greatest seer and Mistress of Time tell us that we cannot miss this chance that the Hallows present us and our Elders not only dismiss you but insult you behind your back despite time and time again your predictions coming true."

"And yet that isn't the only reason is it?" Laruthrax observed. "Speak freely young one. You are in the company of open minds here."

"Ciri...she saved my life when I was but a foal. I in turn saved hers many a time to repay that life debt but knowing the fate that awaits her...I...I would be a poor friend to leave her to her fate simply because my Elders tell me that it is a necessary and unavoidable sacrifice. Especially when those same Elders once almost refused to aid her simply because she possessed what they considered too much power."

For the first time Laruthrax tore her eyes from the Wizard below and looked at Ihuarraquax, nodding, satisfied with his answer. It was refreshing to speak to one of her own kind that was not a slave to the direction of the ancient Elders. Perhaps she would take this stripling under her mane. She did not think he would be adverse if she presented an opportunity to help Ciri.

"The Elders are terrified of the power of Chaos in other races because they do not wish to see another society like the Aen Elle rise. But this fear has evolved from a warning to be held in mind to a paralysing terror that controls it. They have become inflexible and resistant to any change beyond ancient out of date wisdom and strategies that do nothing but delay the inevitable. I warned them of this. Warned them that their only through great power could great enemies be defeated and our people and the peoples of the cosmos be saved. You know the result of that. So I took the initiative myself. The meeting of these two souls is the culmination of that work. Should the Lady of Space and Time and the Master of Death succeed a blight on creation will finally be defeated and many smaller ones extinguished forever."

"And if they fail?" Ihuarraquax whispered.

"If they fail...well if they fail then our long defeat will become a quick one, but I would consider this a blessing also. Better to burn bright but short than to fade away for eternity and go screaming into the long night."

Tossing her mane and turning from the cliff face, Laruthrax's horn began to glow.

"Come, your Ciri will be safe for now and there is but one thing left to do, to buy Harry Potter some time. It has been decades since Aen Elle blood has wetted my horn and I would no longer deny myself the pleasure. Will you join me?"

The air echoing with Ihuarraquax's eager whiny of agreement two glowing portals tore open on the cliff face and the Unicorns galloped through.

Fate had been forever altered that night, the board of the cosmos flipped into the air and the pieces scattered. Fools would say that she played with dangerous forces, tried to control Destiny, the only force in the cosmos that could **not** be controlled. The wise would know better, know that Laruthrax had in fact altered fate with the happy and eager consent of Destiny.

Only time would tell what moves the players would take next and Laruthrax, Mistress of Time and Elder of the Herd that Roams Free could not wait.

Let the games begin.

* * *

**AN: **

**First off thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. It's immensely humbling to see the scale of positive reaction I've had to this fic and I hope I did that justice with this long awaited chapter. In future I'll try to make an effort to respond to those with specific questions in their reviews, a lack of time and pressing circumstances preventing me from doing so before.**

**On other matters I'm going to nip a question a lot of people have in the bud, i.e. Holy shit, he just mopped the floor with them, is this an OP/god like Harry? Answer is solid no. Harry is powerful to be sure. Just like Ciri is going to be an unparalleled fighter due to her powers and training, Harry is going to be a strong af Wizard, both due to his natural ability, fighting every year of his life since he was eleven and his possession of the Hallows. But he's not going to be top dog and will have plenty of equals under most circumstances. **

**So why did he just mop the floor so handily with the Wild Hunt? Because on top of that fact that his magic is more versatile, quicker and completely unknown to the Wild Hunt, the Navigator who found him isn't a particularly strong example of his kind. **

**Continuing last chapters AN, the show was honestly better than I expected though I still had a lot of sticking points. The casting was 50/50 for being either perfect or completely trash tier with people such as Geralt, Yennefer (a surprise to be sure) and Ciri on one side with the rest of the sorceresses being on the other. A lot of the plot was awesome, especially the Blaviken arc but there was also huge dumps taken on the material such as the Brokilon forest debacle being as bad as the Dorne arc was in GOT and the Nilfgaardians being transformed into one dimensional religious fanatics. **

**Sooooo better than I feared but worse than I hoped pretty much sums it up. Henry as Geralt and Jaskier carried a lot of the show for me if I'm being honest. I'll definitely watch a second season, seeing the development of the family relationship between Geralt, Yen and Ciri grow would be reason enough.**

**Again, this is my opinion so if you disagree keep it civil. **

**As always reviews are encouraged and appreciated, no matter the length or composition (trolling and flaming obviously not included). I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you in the next one.**


End file.
